It’s official, I do believe spring has sprung. My eyes are exploding with pollen and I want a whole new wardrobe. That’s how I know for sure.
I stopped just short of doing myself a harm to avoid returning to work this morning. I am reminded of the moment in Downton Abbey Season Two when Thomas succeeds in getting himself shot in order to be sent back home from the war. I did not hurt myself, but it was tough to come back from my five day cooking-rehearsing-practicing-Downton Abbey watching party. And yes, work is not anything like a war, but...you can understand.
At the beginning of the week I made myself a list of what I wanted to make to keep in the freezer, and I did ALL OF IT. I made Asian Chicken soup, six meals worth of meatballs and tomato sauce, spinach and ricotta ravioli, marinaded chicken ready for the grill or oven, mini quiches for breakfasts, two loaves of bread (I would have made more, but it’s been too humid for good bread making), and four two-person portions of carbonara casserole. Cooking is such a pleasure for me, it makes me feel human, and like my life is not useless after all—if all else fails I can cook something for somebody and have them like it. Also, I’ve always felt like cooking is one of the few things I really do for Joe, when he does so much for me every day. There are literally lists of tasks I never even have to think about because he wordlessly takes care of them.
Joe and I always have to plan really well for our summers—as do most of the musicians I know, because money is tighter without church and adjunct teaching. So as I look forward and try to plan for what I’ll want to save for—first on the list is a new recording, and several lessons. Second is something I’ve been thinking about for a long time, but in the light of all the voice lessons I need, I’d been having a hard time trying to justify it. I want to start training as a Reiki healer—something I’ve been introduced to by one of my favorite yoga teachers. But even if the only person it ever heals is me—what could possibly be a more beneficial thing to spend money on? It’s not like I’m buying a Chanel purse, although I want one of those too. I guess the idea that I would want to spend any more than 100 dollars on anything other than singing with my discretionary income scares me. It’s like this voice in my head is telling me I don’t have my priorities straight. But it’s the wrong voice, the fearful voice, the one with the guilt.
I have to stop paying any attention to that voice. I really do.